


Impetuous Arrangement

by ScriptedAssimilation



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aged up characters, College AU, Dave comes in chapter 4, Demonstuck, Depression, Drug Use, Humanstuck, M/M, Mood Swings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5136545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriptedAssimilation/pseuds/ScriptedAssimilation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Sollux Captor and you are not completely sure, but you think you may have just stumbled ass backwards into a deal with the worst demon this side of existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Muddled Information

**Author's Note:**

> So demonstucks have always been a guilty pleasure of mine, but the gore squicks me right the fuck out. If you're in the same boat, we're going to have a good time here. The rating will go up, eventually, because I am convinced I am not capable of writing a fic where these two don't fuck. It might take a while to get there though.
> 
> Also, I neither go to MIT nor do drugs, though I did date a person from MIT for a while, so all my knowledge of the school comes from there. And I've done research for the drug bit, so its hopefully not atrocious. Sollux's bipolarness is all based on my own. I think that's all I've got in the way of disclaimers.

This is the third night this week that you’ve locked yourself in the shower and sat crying on the floor. The transition from home to school is always hard for you—despite not being a fucking freshman anymore. It looks like you spun the bipolar wheel and got depression this time. Congrats Mr. Captor, you got the shitty side. At least if you were manic you could get some fucking work done.

Someone has been knocking at the door on and off for the last what feels like ten minutes, but fuck them, this dorm has more than one bathroom. They knock harder, and fuck, that’s the Res Life knock. You’ve heard it way too many times, usually followed by the dreaded hospital question.

“Sollux,” they call, and shit, it’s definitely your R.A. You hit the jackpot and somehow ended up with the same one as last year. She knows your history, despite bullshit ‘confidentiality ‘clauses.

You take a long moment to swallow your sobs and force your words to be even. “What the fuck do you want Nep?”

“Sollux I think we both remember what happened last year.” There’s a pause, and then she knocks gently on the door again. “I’m going to need you to come out for me now Sollux. I don’t want to call public safety on you again.”

You bang your head against the shower wall a couple of times before pulling yourself up onto your feet. Something nasty is probably going to start growing out of your ass for sitting on a communal shower floor, but you just can’t find it in yourself to give a damn.

“Sollux?” Nepeta calls again.

“One sec.” You wince at your lisp, and add it to the bottom of your ‘shit I’m beating myself up about today’ list. You don’t bother to dry yourself off, just wrap a towel as high around your waist as high as you can without letting your junk poke out the bottom. You click the lock and open the door only enough to make eye contact.

“What do you want?”

She frowns. “I got a complaint that someone had been in the shower for like two hours. And y’know, this isn’t a traditional style dorm, there’s only, like, three bathrooms, on this floor at least, so,” she drawls out the word in the most annoying fashion possible. “So it’s kind of a problem.” She lowers her voice from the playful, chipper note it had been on before, “I think you should go put some clothes on, and then I’ll pop over and we can talk about things. Or you can come to mine, I’m 433, I have chamomile tea.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come over.” You’re so not going to go over.

“Perfect!” Her fakey cheery demeanor is back on. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

She walks away and you retreat back into the bathroom. The temptation to go back in the shower is strong, but Nep will just come back with the po po and pull your naked ass out and around the hall. No thank you. You just grab your shit and high tail it back to your room. It takes you three seconds to pull on the same clothes you were wearing before. Your hoodie is forest green, smelly, and bearing the skull gasmask hybrid that loudly proclaims you are fandom trash. 

You are seriously split between sobbing in your closet or fucking off somewhere private on the roof to have a good cry. You don’t think you have it in you to dash off somewhere private to be a useless mope, but at the same time, you think you might break if Nepeta brings campus police up to your room. Plus the hospital question.

Fucking off to the roof it is then.

You throw your laptop into your backpack, along with your other essentials, your emergency kit, and even your mood stabilizers in case you change your mind. Not like they’ll do anything, but it’s the thought that counts. You take a second to pull your hood down over your face before making a break for it. 

You almost trip on staircase three; your foot misses a step and you lurch forward. This is it you think. This is how I die. It’s kind of funny how you’re ok with that.

It’s instinct that got you to stop, your hands flying out to grab onto the railing. You stand frozen, shaken for a minute. You suddenly feel like you’re going to vomit. And cry. At the same time. Ugh, depression is a bitch.

You were on a high just last night. You had gotten all your homework done for the next two weeks, and started three personal projects. You still have that energy inside you; only now it makes you want to tear your skin off instead of get shit done.

Once you’re certain you’re not actually going to puke, you resume speeding down the stairs. You continue your pace down the hallway, ignoring the student at the desk trying to greet you. You push open the door, calmly walk down the sidewalk.

As soon as you’re out of sight from the front desk, you sprint. You feel the tears bubbling up, and you bite your tongue hard to keep them down. You’re out of breath in record time. You duck into the ally and sling your backpack around to your front. You dig into the side pocket that everyone always forgets about, and pull out your emergency kit. You look around quickly before fumbling to open it up.

MIT has a work hard play hard attitude. You have the first part of that down. A juggalo from AIB helped you out with the second part. It’s the main reason you’re off your meds—you’re afraid of drug interactions.

You’ve only got Xanax. You’re too afraid to do anything else on your own. You were on this shit in highschool, when your anxiety was less manageable, so you’d like to think you know what you’re doing. You break off a tablet from the bar and stash the rest away. With a swig from your water bottle, you pop it.

You know you’ve got about twenty minutes. Time to dash.

You make it down dorm row in record time. Soon you’re in the infinite corridor, where you know a not strictly allowed stairwell that will take you up to the roof. There are other people around, yeah, sure, but they’re all caught up in their own shit, and don’t notice anything amiss with a skinny white guy walking a bit too fast. You duck down the right hallway and start climbing.

Nepeta has probably caught on by now that you’ve ditched her. You don’t even have the decency to feel bad about it. She’s probably panicking, and you know what, she’s probably right to. 

It’s only been ten minutes, and you’re still not feeling anything. Logically, you know you shouldn’t be, but some part of you—you don’t know if it’s the depression talking, or the desperate part of you trying to persevere your mindset—is telling you that these need to kick in right the fuck now. You take another one. That’s one milligram. You absolutely have to keep track. You don’t think you can actually die from Xanax (you do have some fireball in your bag though, so if you wanted to go down that route you could. Or you could stop being a huge pussy and jump.), but you can fuck yourself up. Pretty bad. Hospitalization bad.

You find your spot—it’s out of the way, secluded. The sky is dark, and you can’t see stars. No one will be coming by anytime soon. You collapse on the floor and make an ugly face, trying to hold back tears. It doesn’t work. Your body shakes hard as you sob silently. You pull your laptop out and prop it up in front of you, in some vain attempt to convince the unlikely passerby that yes, you are in fact fine, this is normal.

It’s sad because it is.

It’s then that you start feeling it. You’re starting to feel heavy and dreaming, like maybe you’re going to be ok after all. 

But you’re still sobbing. Everything still sucks. You’re not knocked on your ass enough to stop being depressed. You take two more. That’s two milligrams. You have to keep track.

You just sit there for a while. The xanax has you zoned out enough to stop crying, but you still feel like it. This shit is supposed to be relaxing, why aren’t you fucking relaxed yet.

You go to take two more. Three milligrams.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” You jerk, looking up. A Middle Eastern kid is staring down at you. You try to respond, but the gears of your head are turning a bit slow. He just shrugs, then disappears. 

Like poof disappears. You blink hard. Look down at the bar in your hand, then up to where he was again.

This shit is not supposed to make you hallucinate. 

Maybe you’re schizophrenic. Fuck. Like bipolar wasn’t enough.

Well, if that’s going to be the case, you might as well put yourself down. You’re not going to get anywhere with that diagnosis.

“Fuck it,” you say. You take four more pills. That’s five milligrams. That’s more than you should be taking. You’re already a weird mix of blissed out and depressed, and this isn’t going to make it any better. Time is starting to go funny. You take four more. Seven. Ten is the top daily dose. You’re taking almost all that in one sitting. Welp, no turning back now.

“You’re going to regret that.” The kid is sitting next to you now, black hair falling over his eyes, his red, glowing eyes, as he tilts his head at you, grinning.

You squeeze your eyes shut. He’s not real. 

“I am,” he says.

“What?” you say. It comes out too slow. You feel kind of like that one time you got shit faced freshman year. You took too much. And yet you still have this dumb impulse to take more.

“I am real.” He keeps grinning, pokes you in the side real quick. You feel it. Huh. Then he’s gone again. Poof. You let your head fall back against the wall and close your eyes.

“Oh no you don’t.” There’s a hand in your hair, jerking your face down. The kid—he’s got to be a fucking freshman, he barely looks legal—is squatting next to you, pulling your hair so you have to look at him. 

You open your mouth to tell him to fuck off and let you pass out on your own, but he actually shooshes you, pressing his index finger against your lips.

“Listen here fuck munch, and listen good. You’ve fucked up here, and you know it.” He leans in closer, so the two of you are nearly forehead to forehead. “Take another one though. And by another one, I mean another bar.” He laughs coldly and rocks back on his heels. “We both know you’re going to anyway.” 

He’s gone. You blink hard. Over and over again. Then you close your eyes and take another bar. What does that put you at? It doesn’t even matter. You’re just going to pass out and die here, and it’ll be great.

“Holy shit, you actually did it. You are the easiest mark ever, this is ridiculous. Kudos man, thanks for making my job easy. Seriously, why am I even here? Do the words self preservation mean anything to you, or are they just some bullshit myth you stopped believing in once you left your diapers behind?” He sounds kind of angry. You think. Processing is hard. How long has it been? You can feel the pills piling up; there's no way it's been long enough, right?

“What the fuck man?” You wince. Your voice is slurred worse than it’s ever been.

“You’re gonna shut down. You can already fucking feel it, I know you can. All your thoughts are going hazy, and you don’t even have the willpower to hate yourself with that suicidal rage you keep pent up in you all the time. Can you say boring?”

Your mind is too slow to bother trying to respond, but you do try to open your eyes. The kid is pacing back and forth in front of you, head back, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes.

“This is not how this is supposed to go. Well, it is, but I had a freakin plan, that you so gloriously had to undermine. But you know what, fine. It’s fine.” He turns to you, pinching his nose. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to say shit, and you’re going to agree to it, got that, fuck for brains?” He pauses. “Fuck, you’re already getting too far gone. Christ, why does everything have to be such a shitacular production?” He poofs, and appears next to you in a second. 

If you your thoughts were actually moving now, instead of blocked in drug haze, you’d be sure you were schizophrenic.

“I’ll give you a fucking freebie, on the grounds that you go along with what I say, ok? Wait, fuck, if you agree, don't respond.” He pauses, like there was a chance you could reply. “Alright, perfect.” He snaps his fingers, and suddenly everything comes rushing back in at once. You wheeze and crumple in on yourself. The drug induced fog is gone, and all of the sudden you’re back to feeling like the world is crashing down just for you.

“I’m going crazy,” you whisper.

“Like fuck you are. But I can help. Oh by the way, you’re still on your way to comatose, that didn’t stop being a fact just because the fog cleared, see, look.” He snaps his fingers, and the haze swoops back down on you. A second later there’s another snap, and you’re back to crippling depression. Your head is reeling, and not in the fun way. You can feel tears gathering themselves in your eyes.

“Just say the word and I can make it all better.” The boy next to you stretches, and looks at you curiously. His eyes are back to dark brown. You must have been hallucinating the red early. Shit is worse than you thought. It’s probably time to call Nep and have her bring you into the hospital.

“You would do anything to keep from going back there, right?” The kid is still staring at you.

“Huh?” Fuck, you’re crying now. You rub furiously at your eyes and bite down on your tongue. The pain stops the tears momentarily. 

“You’d do anything to keep from going to the hospital, right? To get rid of these lame ass mood swings to—“

“How the fuck do you know all this?” You try to sound angry. Your voice cracks with a sob.

“Pretty fucking obvious with you sitting here wailing like some three year old with his first paper cut. Seriously dude, it’s embarrassing. I’m embarrassed for you. I can tell you more about how pathetic you are later though. Important thing here though; what would you say if someone said they could make it all go away? If I gave you a magic pill. Poof, perfect mental health. You’d bite, for any cost?”

“Obviously. Now go the fuck away, let me wallow alone.” The guys face splits into an impossibly wide smile. His eyes bleed back to that candy red, and his skin goes ashen, tiny candy corn horns sprout up in his hair. You are thoroughly convinced you are hallucinating. You’re pretty sure you should be terrified, but you can’t get the emotion going.

The guy disappears. Perfect. Your head falls back against the wall and it kind of hurts. Doesn’t matter, you are definitely crazy. Next thing you know you’re going to be convinced the voices of the soon to be deceased are talking to you. Lifetime hospitalization here you come. 

There is suddenly something very warm and very heavy in your lap. Great, it looks like hallucination boy has decided to get all friendly with you. You cry harder. You just…can’t anymore.

He slaps you. Hard. Across your face. Its shocks your tears to a stop, because wow, that felt so real.

“I am real.” He says. “Sollux fucking Captor, you may be a bipolar freak, but you are not hallucinating. Though it would really be better for you if you were. You have no clue what you’ve just gotten yourself into.” He leans forward and kisses you. Bites down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. You jump, go to push him away, but he’s already gone, standing in front of you, licking your blood off his lips.

You’re trying to be angry. You really are. But you can’t grasp any emotion other than sad and empty right now. You could really use that manic rage right now. You speak with none of the venom you know you should feel. “What the actual fuck?”

The guy just smirks, red eyes glowing. “I’ll come by later to work out my terms and conditions. And by work out, I mean just fucking dump on you, you’ve already agreed to anything like a fucking chump. But don’t worry. I’m sure your mental health will be worth the shit I put you through, right?” He grins, and it’s almost predatory. You’re starting to get a really bad feeling about this.

“My name’s Karkat, by the way. Karkat Vantas. You might want to google that, see what kind of hell you’ve gotten yourself into.” 

He disappears, and you black out.


	2. Morning After

You wake up tucked into a bed.

Your bed.

You’re surprised it’s not a hospital bed.

You’re also really fucking relieved that it’s not a hospital bed.

You close your eyes, roll over, and try to go back to sleep. 

You spend two minutes staring at the side of your wall, trying to feel the emptiness that so often crushes you down after the sun has set.

It doesn’t come. 

You try to feel the frantic energy that comes in the god awful hours of the morning.

It doesn’t come.

For the first time in a long, long time, you feel perfectly fine.

You get out of bed, open your shades for what might be the third time ever. You pluck your phone off your dresser and check the time. It’s eight thirty in the morning. You don’t think you’ve ever woke up this early feeling this great ever. Maybe in elementary school. Who cares about remembering that far back though?

Your phone buzzes in your hand. It previews a message from a handle you’ve never seen before.

CG: IT WAS REAL.

You frown. You hadn’t really doubted that. A better question is who this is and how do they know.

TA: new phone who dis

CG: HA FUCKING HA.

CG: I KNOW YOU KNOW ME.

Ok, yeah, horror movie rules state this has to be the guy from last night. He must have stolen your handle while you were passed out.

CG: DID YOU LOOK ME UP IN ALL OF MY HORRIBLE GLORY YET? 

CG: (:B

TA: what the fuck is that

CG: IT’S A FUCKING EMOJI.

TA: of what you with a unibrow and buck teeth

CG: NO YOU VAPID SHIT SPHINCTER, THOSE ‘BUCK TEETH’ ARE MY HORNS.

Yeah whatever. You’re done here. Maybe you’ll go get breakfast. You’re actually hungry for once, on top of being awake during dining hall hours.

You’re shoving shitty powdered eggs and homefries while going over your coding textbook when your phone buzzes again.

CG: WHY HAVE YOU STILL NOT LOOKED ME UP? DO YOU STILL HAVE THAT RIDICULOUS PASSIVE SUICIDAL URGE? DID I SOMEHOW, IN ALL MY MAGNANIMOUS SPLENDORED AND MANIPULATIVE EXPERTISE SOMEHOW MISS THAT? NO, OF COURSE I DIDN’T. BECAUSE I’M THE FUCKING BEST AT THIS, WHO AM I KIDDING? GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASSHOLE, I KNOW IT’S A COZY LITTLE HOME FOR THAT MUSH YOU CALL A BRAIN, BUT WAKE UP AND SMELL THE ROSES FUCKTWIT, THERE’S A DEMON ON THE LOOSE.

You continue ignoring this guy. You’ve got better things to do. You’re not quite sure what these things are, but you are damn sure you’re going to figure them out and get to doing them.

You go to all of your classes. You are hella levels of proud of yourself. You also eat lunch, and dinner, which is definitely bonus points. You are going to gain all the levels today. All of them. When you pull out your phone to check out reddit, you find it pulled up to a google search you definitely did not tell it to do. You’re not sure how that guy managed to get your phone to look him up, but you close the tab without looking at it.

He's in your room when you make your way back, lounging on your bed with what looks like a grocery store porn novel. You'd been camped by the athletics field for the latter half of the day, enjoying the nice weather and watching the girls in their short shorts run past. You think the guys should wear short shorts when they run too, but you don't know where to lodge a formal complaint. At least they’re shirtless.

You suddenly realize your sex drive had spiked. Which is a thing that happens from time to time, but usually during long streaks of going hard. Never in just a normal 'I'm horny' way. You'd taken a moment to appreciate it. It got old really fast. 

Said spiked sex drive has you noting the kid is pretty cute. A bigger part of you, like two hundred twenty two percent of you, is wondering how the fuck he got in here. You start to say as much.

"How the fuck did--"

He looks up from his book. "Shove it nerd lord, this is your own fucking fault, no matter how you look at it. This shit is a multifaceted gleaming gem of your own failure; I am merely a collector of fine fuck up crystals, and yours, let me tell you, are spectacular. I’ve never seen one in such piss poor condition, it will be a rare honor to add you to my display case."

"Get out."

"No."

"Get the fuck out."

"You can't fucking make me."

"It’s my room."

"I own your ass, you can't kick me out unless I let you." He goes back to reading, and that really makes you fume. You stalk forward, grab him by the shoulders and try to drag him to his feet. You are sadly not strong enough for that. He laughs at you.

"We should go over my terms and conditions now. And get started on payment," he says, placing the book beside him on the bed.

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. Who does this guy think he is?

"Karkat Vantas. That's who I think I am. You would have fucking known if you were able to take a friendly hint, but no, you had to keep your antisocial stick firmly lodged up your ass and refuse any bit of lee-way I tried to give you."

You vaguely remember him doing this last night. The whole answering your unasked questions things. It’s kind of neat. And by neat you mean annoying.

"Why don't you shove that stick up your fucking ass 'till you choke on it?" You all but snarl at him.

He rubs at his temples. 

"Look man, let's not do this. Just this once don't make me do this."

"Do what?"

"Do this. this whole anger and disbelief thing. Let me make this short. Me--Karkat Vantas, demon, incubus class. You--Sollux Captor, sorry shit stain who has managed to contract himself to me. Can we go over my payment now?"

"You're deranged. Oh my god, you're fucking deranged. I'm going to have to call Nep on your ass."

He sighs, stands up. 

"I don't want to do it this way. Look, I really don't. I had big dreams for this, ok, so thanks for just going out there and ruining it all. Really, thanks a bunch for that. I mean it man. But it looks like we're going to have to." He snaps his fingers, and the world goes blurry for a second. When things refocus, he's still right in front of you, this time with gray skin and the same nubby horns as before. 

Great, you’re hallucinating again.

He growls. Actually growls, not in the dumb way ten year olds do when they're playing monsters, but like a feral dog. 

"You're not fucking hallucinating!" He pushes you hard in the chest, and you stumble back. The door behind you swings shut, and you jump. Then you groan, fall face first into your bed. You're fucked, you're so fucking fucked. You need to call your psychiatrist. You pull out your phone and check the time while hallucination guy huffs and puts his hands on his hips. Damn it, it’s seven thirty five, the office is closed. Not that you could go anyway, you're going to have to get a bus back home just to see him. God damn everything.

"So my terms and conditions," the hallucinations says, and then clears his throat and waits a moment before deciding to take your non response as an answer. "So my terms and conditions, as you've already accepted them, is I get to do whatever I fucking want and you have to deal with it. You already agreed, don't even try to fight it, it's not going to work. In exchange I have to keep you bright eyed and bushy tailed always, nothing but blue skies, what the fuck ever. And I get to collect payment anytime I want. That's starting right now. I want payment for the first day, right now." He hip checks your bed. You look up. He's Middle Eastern again. Good to know your brain is going for consistency.

"Come on, get up, I know for a fact you don't actually feel like shit, so let's get a move on."

"If I get up, will you go away?" It comes out a little muffled by the shitty mattress you have pressed into your face.

"Yes, for a little bit, let's go."

Fine, hallucination, you fucking win. You are officially crazy. You get up, fix your glasses, and stare down at him.

"I'm up."

"Great, grab your wallet, I want Toscies."

"So let me get this straight," you deadpan. "I'm hallucinating a quote unquote demon--"

"Wrong, not hallucinating--"

"That's a quote unquote incubus--"

"Correct--"

"And you want ice cream? As payment?"

"Earl grey ice cream."

You grab your wallet. "Fucking fine."

"Fucking finally," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I decided to go back and edited out the phonetic lisp because I know some people feel like its annoying. Anyways, I'm on break from college for a bit, I'll try to get another chapter up before I go back. But no promises. And hey, happy new year.


	3. Totally Not a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Hopefully this will do something for you, even if it is just awkward fluff.

“I still can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

“Look man, can we drop this already? This shit is happening, you don’t buy it. I get it, you’re skeptical. Let me fucking enjoy this.”

“Let him enjoy this, he says. Ha. Yeah, sure, whatever.” You look down at your feet as the both of you stomp down the sidewalk. It’s a beautiful day, a little warm, but beautiful nonetheless. It's only now starting to get dark. People are out and about. You’ve already had three pedestrians pass you because Karkat is set on leisurely stroll speed. They step up onto the grass to avoid him, which is weird, but whatever. Not enough to change your mind.

It takes you forever to get to Tosci's. It takes Karkat even longer to decide what he wants, because of fucking course they don’t have earl grey today. He’s a menace; he won’t even get in line until he knows what he’s ordering. You’re embarrassed; the girl behind the counter has asked you three times if you’re ready and you’ve had to say no every time.

All of the sudden though, he makes up his mind, storms right up to the counter, and politely orders a cinnamon and caramel two scooper. You stare, flabbergasted, as the girl gets it and hands it to him. Both of them turn to look at you expectantly.

Ok. Ok, so he’s real. You can deal with this. After ice cream. You step forward.

“I uh, I’ll get a B3."

“What size?" Says the girl, in that fake bubbly retail worker voice.

“Just give the douche nozzle a scoop. No wait, give him two, he probably needs it. ”

The girl looks at you for confirmation, and you just nod. 

You take the cup when it’s handed to you, and pay in a sort of daze. Karkat gets a hand on your elbow and steers you to one on of the tiny tables along the far wall.

You plop down opposite of him, and stare at him as he starts eating.

“So you have questions now?” He asks between bites. 

You feel like you need some processing time before you really get to that, but you’ll try anyway.

"Yes," you say. But then nothing more comes out.

"So?" He says.

"Yeah." You say.

"Well, not that this isn't completely riveting, but I was sort of hoping for a little bit more. I take it you believe me now."

"Yeah." You take your first bite of ice cream, and it's all brownie batter. "So what happens now?"

"We make pleasant small talk, and then I go. And I'll see you next whenever I feel like."

"I don't get any say in this."

"Not a lick." He says. "You forfeited that as your part of the terms and conditions but—" He’s suddenly staring out the window. “If you want to make some suggestions, I won’t immediately veto them.”

Well, fuck. That sounds awful nice of him; it’s got to be a trick of some sort. Then again, this guy pings as annoying, not dangerous so maybe he’s just a small fry, and can’t do things properly yet. Whatever, you’ll think about your ‘suggestions’ later, once you figure out what those may be.

"So you get my soul now?"

"Mm, no, not interested in souls, I'm not a reaper. I'm mostly interested in sex."

Oh. Ooh. Yeah, you can do that.

"But not from you."

Ok, you're offended and kind of disappointed.

"Wow. What a jerk. Why not?"

He laughs. "Jesus, I didn't think you'd be disappointed. What kind of freak bounces from worrying about something as lofty and precious as his eternal soul, to hot damn, I'm not gonna get laid by this amazing piece of ass? Did I miss a screw in there or something?"

"Let's note that you're the one picking on me for being sex happy, when you're the one who literally just said they were only interested in sex."

Oh boy, you can see this already. It's going to be a long and hate fueled relationship. Perfect, just what you need after Feferi.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm interested in sex the way you're interested in Doritos and shitty energy drinks. It keeps me nourished, and it tastes the best."

"Oh, so you swallow.”  
He glares daggers: it's the same face he made earlier when he made that inhuman growl. "That's not what I meant and you fucking know it."

"But you do, right?"

"Am I currently blowing you? No? Then I don't think that's something you get to know."  
He got a little loud there. The girl at the center table is looking over. You want to not care, you so want to not care, but you're a pretty private guy, and, yeah, you should stop egging him on.  
In public.

Or maybe in general, if this guy really is a demon.

Karkat groans and slides down in his seat.

"Are we seriously back to that? Really? Really? I give up. I'm done, that's it, goodbye."  
He gets up, leaving his ice cream on the table and turns towards the door. You jump up and catch his wrist.

"What?" He says, sounding more tired than you've ever heard a person sound.

"You didn't finish your ice cream, and I paid like, five bucks for it, so you are going to sit your ass down and finish it."

"Oh am I now?"

"Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not. I'm going to stand and finish my ice cream." His face clearly says, what are you going to do about that. The answer is nothing. If he wants to be an immature child and stand, who are you to deny him that right? He leans, you sit, and you're both silent for about two minutes. It's awkward.

"So how do you do the whole mind reading thing? Can you tell me what short brown hair over there is thinking?"

He sighs, takes another bite. "No, I'm shitty at psychic stuff."

"How do you do it with me then?"

"It's because you're not shitty at psychic stuff. You're an incredibly powerful psychic, even untrained, and you broadcast your thoughts so fucking aggressively it would be a miracle for me to not hear them. It's obnoxious, you're mowing over all the psychic pollution like a fucking monster truck."

You're calling bullshit so fucking hard.

Karkat sighs.

Ok, fine. You imagine yourself kneeing him in the crotch as hard as you can.

He laughs, punches you lightly in the shoulder.

His laugh is kind of contagious. "What was I thinking?" You ask, because, apparently you're Mr. Skeptical.

"I'm not going to humor you, Mr. Skeptical," he says. "Thanks for the grub, I guess, even though it's not like you could say no even if you wanted to." He punches you again, ow, and then leaves, tossing his finished ice cream out on the way.

Ok.

This isn't so bad.

He sneers and flips you off through the window as he walks off.

Yeah, not bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't know where I'm going with this guys, other than its going to be domestic as fuck, eventually we'll get to mutual pining I guess. In the mean time, the next chapter is going to introduce Dave I think, and the rating will go up, I'm pretty sure. End game is going to be Soldavekat I think, but that's pretty far off.


	4. You've got some consent problems don't you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave comes in. He's super good at consent. Karkat is not, and its rightly upsetting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dave is hard to write. So I apologize in advance.

“You did the dumb thing, didn’t you?” He adjusts his sunglasses so he can glare at you over the tops. He’s only just unlocked the door and stepped in, but somehow he’s not surprised to see you. He never is.

“Wow, what a way to greet an old friend! Hey Karkat, good to see you, thanks for fucking off for a while so I can adjust to my new school year. How have you been? Is that a new guise? Fuck you man. Fuck you.”

“So spill dude, how badly did you spew bullshit over this whole situation. I know you're dying for me to tell you how hella bishie your pretty dark eyelashes are, but someone in the room is going to erupt in a gushy mess of butt hurt emotions, and it’s not gonna be me.”

“Ok, fine. You know what? Fine.” You flop over in his bed, going face first into his pillow. “I did the dumb thing.”

He sighs and slings his backpack up onto his bed, right onto your legs. “You’re a work of art. Let’s go hang you up in the MFA. We’ll make you into your very own exhibit, it’ll be dope. I can see it now. Karkat Vantas, schmuck extraordinaire. I’m gesturing wide with my hands above head, fyi, if you ever want to get out of pillow land. I mean, it’s fine if you don’t. I can always get a new one if you need to get down and dirty with that one. You gotta make a proper woman of it first though. Can’t have you sexing it up without a ring. I can do the vows—I’m totally an ordained minister. That is a thing that happened. I’m just putting it on the table for all to see. Wait, shit, the minister doesn’t do the vow thing does he? I don’t fucking know—“

“Oh my god. Shut up.”

He snickers. “Ok, sure, but I still don’t get how you’re allowed to say god’s name in vain dude. Or like, at all.”

Ugh, you are so not in the mood to rehash this conversation. 

“Let’s just talk about my new contract, ok? As a favor to me, let’s not do the god thing.”

“My lips are zipped. The key is gone. Don’t ask me why zippers and keys go together; shit is just sacred like that.”

You are sorely tempted to scream into his pillow. It’s a close run thing, but you decide turning over and sighing is a better idea.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“I made him get me ice cream.”

“Dude, that is so not the worst thing you’ve made someone do under contract. Remember your plans for Rose?”

“Yeah, thanks for fucking that up, for the millionth time.”

He jumps up onto the ridiculously high college bed next to you. Or rather, on top of you. He turns, on hands and knees awkwardly, until he’s able to pitch sideways and wedge himself between you and the wall.

“For you, anytime.”

You groan and roll over away from him, then think better of it a second later, and roll back to face him, knocking your foreheads together.

“So tell me what happened. Therapy is more of Rose’s thing, , but I’d like to think I’ve absorbed some of it. Plus I totally took like, one psychology class, so I might as well be fully licensed.”

You groan and close your eyes.

“I feel gross about it,” you say. He goes to speak, but you bring a finger up to his lips and shoosh him. “I kind of wanted this to be natural. Romantic. Or maybe not, what the fuck ever, but no, I let Terezi talk me into contracting him, and now I’ve shit on everything. We can’t be equals when I literally own his ass.”

Dave kisses you. You knee him in the groin. Not nearly as hard as his sputtering and curling up suggests. 

You flop back onto your back. 

“Don’t do that, don’t ever fucking do that. That kiss the hurt better thing is sticky ass juice and I refuse to tolerate it. Don’t you dare try to invalidate my emotions like that.”

He still grabbing at his crotch, but he nods. “Point. Taken.”

“Good.” You reach over and pull his shades off, depositing them on the desk next to his bed. “Now, since you’re obviously going to be shit at comforting my poor torment demon soul, I’m hungry. You up, or should I go out to eat?”

“After you just dented my family jewels?” 

“You’re totally still up for it.”

“I’m totally still up for it.”

“Fantastic,” you say, sitting up to start struggling out of your shirt.

He sits up too. “Is it cool to kiss you now or—“

“It is literally always cool to kiss me, save for that one very specific circumstance.”

He looks like he’s going to say something, but instead he just kisses you.

There’s a rush of movement, and you end up on the bottom. That’s good though, because it means you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. It’s brief; he’s pulling off his shirt a moment later.

“Did I ever tell you how awesome it is that my best friend’s an incubus?” he asks, undoing the button on your jeans.

You roll your eyes. “Like every fucking time.”

He helps you wiggle out of your pants, and sits up for a second to get out of his own. He’s back on you in a second though, kissing your neck, nipping your collar bones.

You can feel a swell of energy coming off him, and you revel in it.

It’s more than you expected.

He hooks his thumbs in your boxers and goes to pull them down.

“Actually,” you say. He pauses and looks up at you. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Aw man, I’m already all hard and shit,” he says, but backs off of you immediately. He’s already struggling to get his pants back on.

“You don’t even have a dick,” you say.

“Karkat, oww. I’m hurt man. You’re going to make my dysphoria act up again.”

“Dysphoria my ass, you look exactly how you want to look.” You pull your shirt back on, sit up, and invade his personal space.

“Thanks again for getting me out of restricting spandex hell. Uhh, what are you doing?”

“I don’t feel like having ‘the full sex tm’ but I’ll give you a handjob if you want.”

“You don’t have to bro.”

“I got your hopes up, fuck knows I got your hopes up, I’m stuffed on your horny aura alone, which is impressive, given I, y’know, usually pick up desperate humans from clubs.”

“Well it’s been a while, and I’m a growing boy. Dave super junior likes a little action from time to time, and mowing my own lawn only keeps me going for so long. What do you expect?”

You slip your hand down his pants. “You are not growing; you’re only as tall as you are because of me, Mr. Naturally Five Foot Four.” 

He takes your hand out of his pants. “So sue me for not choosing to be fucking tiny man. Like there’s nothing wrong with short guys, take you for example, you’re like six inches tall.” He throws up his hands as you go to protest. “Six whole inches of adorablood thirsty. Four whole miles of rabid menacing demon. Two cups of terribad nightmare material. And you’re not into this, so I’m not into this. Cut it out.”

“Suit yourself,” you say. You struggle with getting your pants back on as Dave flops over in the bed. You follow him as soon as your fly is zipped.

“So tell me more about your totally non consensual contract.”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that.” You roll so you’re facing the wall and not him. You bring your hands up to cover your face anyway. “That’s what it is though, isn’t it. Oh fuck, I am the worst, I am a disgusting hodgepodge of garbage and literally feces, gathered from the foulest corners of the world, only to—“

“Ok dude, that’s enough. Just change the contract.”

“I know. I know. But what if he doesn’t want to see me after it?”

“Then you have to lay the fuck off and move on dude. Don’t be the creepy rapey demon. What are the actual confines?”

“It’s really fucking personal to ask about someone else’s terms and conditions, Dave. Do you think I just go around blabbing about yours? No. Because I have fucking standards. But they’re not pretty, I’ll tell you that. They’re weighted so far in my favor, it’s not even funny. I don’t even know how to broach the subject of changing them.”

“Dude, just bring it up. Just be like, ‘Hey dude bro man, I was thinking—“

You elbow him, not too hard, in the gut. “I can’t just say that, it sounds awful. I’d be like the worst demon.”

“You are like the worst demon.”

Your voice inadvertently pitches up more than you’re happy admitting. “He doesn’t have to know that!”

“You’ve really got it bad for this dude, don’t you?”

You shove your face into his chest. “Is that only now becoming apparent?”

“How long have you been creepy demon stalking him?”

“I hate it when you talk about my marks like that. You know I do. I have to eat, Dave. I don’t have enough contracts to keep me going on payment alone. I don’t call you creepy for scoping out a grocery store, and buying apple juice week after week after fucking week.”

“Karkat, I’m calling bs so hard on your ass right now. BS is a giant wall, and you just came careening out of it at approximately a really fucking lot of miles per hour. You’re kidding yourself here. You have what, three contracts now? This Sollux kid, me, and Rose? That’s it, right?”

“I don’t like where you’re going with this,” you grumble, still into his chest.

“It’s just the three, right?” He starts petting your hair.

“Yes.”

“So you don’t contract easy. In fact, the first contract you’ve initiated in how long?”

“Are we counting you not so heroically stumbling in on Rose’s summoning an—“

“Hey, I thought we agreed to not talk about that.”

“You’re the one that brought it up.”

“Fine, fine,” he says. “No, we’re not counting that. And now I’ve forgotten my train of thought.”

“Jesus, thank fuck.” You nudge your way closer to him, tucking your head up against his neck.

“I still don’t get—“

“How I can fucking say that, I know.” You nip him to show your annoyance, but he just tips his head back for you.

“Anyways, moral of the story here, listen up kiddies, D-Strides is going to drop some A fucking plus advise on your sorry demon butt. Dramatic pause.”

He pauses. For a while. You nip him again.

“Just vomit your feelings right into his lap. I know you don’t know what to say, yadda yadda, but verbosity is your middle name. And yeah, you’re the king of one night stands,but you don’t want to do that with this guy, I know you don’t. So don’t. Fucking talk to him. Explain that you are basically the worst demon ever and mean him no actual harm.”

“He’s not going to believe me.”

“Why not?”

“Would you believe me?”

“I’m here now, aren’t I? And our initial meeting was much scarier. You actually wanted to kill Rose, didn’t you?”

You don’t want to answer that. Fuck, you don’t want to answer that. But he already knows the answer, so it doesn’t even matter.

“See,” he says. “You were going to kill my sister, and now, here we are, snuggling.”

“This guy isn’t suicidal like you.” Fuck. You didn’t mean to say that. Sollux is a walking suicidal mess. Catch him in the right mood and—that’s what you’re actively trying to prevent.

“Dude, not suicidal. Playing hero. Which is basically the same thing so I guess you got me.”

“I just. I just don’t want to mess this up, but I already have.”

Dave kisses the top of your head. “I know,” he says. “Just, fuck listening to Terezi about shit like this, ok? Her heart is in the right place, but she doesn’t get the romance thing so much.”

“I know, I don’t know why I did it, I just—“ Fuck you’re going to cry. “Dave,” you say. “Can we just cuddle for a bit?”

He throws a leg over you and wraps an arm around your waist. “I mean that’s what we were already doing, but sure. I can crank up the knob on the cuddle-o-meter to 11 like this shit is Spinal Tap if that’s what your little demon heart needs.”

You kiss his neck. “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break between chapters. Its summer now, so you think I'd write more, but I'm going back to a job I hate, so don't count on it.
> 
> In other news, I'll be doing Connecticon this summer. If you're going, keep your eyes out for kk, sol and roxy, they might be me.


	5. Spolier: the blond stud muffin and his scraggly friend don't kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a long time guys. Do the kids even like solkat anymore, or is it all davekat now? I am sorry. I had a bipolar break down of sollux worthy prepositions and am still reeling--like, months later. But this has been done for a long time before that, and I just now got around to doing the edits, so, here you go. Spoilers for Captain America Civil War-- no boys kiss and that upsets Karkat

There’s a lump in your bed that definitely isn’t just your mass of pillows and blankets. Sure, it’s ridiculous to have three full sized comforters for a twin sized bed, but they don’t make such a long, human-shaped lump. Upon closer inspection, there’s a mass of dark hair sprouting from the top.

You have either suddenly gotten a new roommate, which wouldn’t even make any sense because you have a medical single. Either that or hallucination-demon kid is back. There’s only one way to deal with this.

You silently shut your door, lock it, and then creep closer to the bed. He doesn’t move. You peel your backpack off, swing it around, and with a great amount of force, toss it onto the bed—and therefore on top of the kid.

He squawks awake, feet kicking, arms thrashing, thoroughly trapped under the comforter.

“Sup cocksucker,” you say.

“I fucking hate you,” the kid says. Or demon. You should call him a demon: that’s what he is, right? Fuck. You need to google his name, but you forgot what it was.

He pulls the comforter over his face. “Karkat,” he says.

“What the hell kind of name is that?”

“An awesome kind of name,” he mumbles back. Jesus, is he already falling back asleep?

“Yes,” he murmurs, and then says something else that you don’t catch. So you ignore him. Get up and go to your desk, take laptop number two out. You’re about to boot it up, when you hear something clatter onto the floor.

Well that’s just great. That’s your bag on the floor. Laptop number one was in there. You fly across the room to check on your baby. He’s ok, it looks like, even though that was like a four foot fall onto hard wood floor.

“It’s fine,” demon kid says, “And if it’s not I’ll get you another one.”

“I built this,” you hiss, “You can’t just buy me another one!”

“What the fuck ever. I’m tired; let me sleep.”

You bring your bag over to your desk, and start putting all your textbooks on the shelf. “Why are you even fucking here then? I don’t remember subscribing to any services that provide barely eighteen twinks delivered straight to my bed, only nineteen ninety-nine.”

“Pay up time,” he yawns.

Fuck. This.

“No,” you say. “I don’t have time for this! I have pset due in like three days that I have— “

“You did it already before I oh so lovingly careened into the spectacular feces party you call a life, y’know when you were still--” He thrusts one hand into the air, making lazy circles with his pointer finger. “Coocoo.”

You grit your teeth. “I’m not crazy. I’m bipolar-- it’s just a chemical imbalance in my brain.”

“Yeah, sure, not crazy, just wanting to throw yourself off a building, or, oh, I don’t know, hurting yourself in a vain attempt to feel better, or, oh! Oh! I got this! Using drugs as a way to escape reality. What would your father say?”

“What do you fucking want? What do I have to do to make you fuck off?”

He pats the bed. Nope. Nope you’re going to play dumb. He pats the bed again. 

He sighs, flails around, sits up, pulling the blankets with him. He pats the bed with more force. A lot more force.

“I know you’re just being deliberately obtuse, and while that is a charming quality in the eyes of a fine assholery dealer, I, for one, am not putting up with this. I have cast assholery out of my life. I am living a pure, free, assholeless life—”

“Whatever, god, just shut up.” You jump up onto the bed with him. Your shoulders knock, and he shuffles over a bit.

“What now, o great and powerful demon,” you say with as much sarcasm as you can muster, which, is quite a lot if you do say so yourself.

“Movie,” is all he says. He gestures, and this giant, organic, purple laptop drops out of the air, catching itself on equally giant crab legs. He gestures around, and the crabtop positions itself at eye level.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks.

“Oh, I get a say in this now, do I, o ace one?” 

“Come off it nerd lord, I’m not actually trying to make this suck for you.”

You don’t really care about movies. You’d rather play video games.

The kid—demon—Karkat, rolls his eyes. “Just pick a movie, you humongous dork.”

“I have better things to do,” you groan, slumping back against the wall.

“You have two fucking hours to spare,” the kid says. Fuck, you forgot his name again.

“Karkat,” he offers, annoyance clear in his tone.

Fuck this, he’s getting a nickname, nicknames are so much easier to remember. Hm, Kat? 

“Don’t you dare come up with a nickname for me.” He’s looking away from you, --must be embarrassed.

“Fuck you, I’m not!” His commentary on your thoughts is really annoying. 

He groans and slumps back against the wall next to you, wrapping the blanket around himself a little bit tighter.

“How about kk?” you say.

The blanket gets pulled down over his face.

“It’s better than Kat. Now pick a fucking movie.”

“Fine, Captain America, Civil War,” you say.

KK groans. “That’s the one where they refuse to let the blond stud muffin and his scraggly friend kiss, isn’t it?”

“That’s the one.”

“Fuck.” He leans forward, types something you can only assume to be the movie—his keyboard and screen are all in some foreign language that looks suspiciously like video game alphabets.

The movie starts up. He snuggles back into his blanket cocoon. 

You cross your arms, and settle in to watching the movie.

The silence lasts for about twenty minutes, and it’s awkward as hell. You’ve just been thinking about the homework you have to do, and kk’s just been fidgeting.

He finally gives a huge sigh, lifts his arm up, blanket going with it. “Are you cold?” he says.

“No,” you say.

“Fucking fine,” he says, and snuggles back into the blanket.

It hits you ten minutes later that that was probably an invitation to snuggle. 

Damn.

You’ve never snuggled with a boy before.

You’ve never done anything with a boy before.

KK starts thumping his head against the wall. “You’re so loud,” he says. “How am I supposed to root for the homosexual subtext to become homosexual canon when you're busy thinking about your relationship failures?”

“Well excuse me, I’m not the one who wanted to watch a fucking movie. I’m allowed to run commentary in my own head, or is that too much of a distraction for your stupid little brain?”

“Fuck you,” he says. “I’m just a demon trying to survive dickmunch. I am literally feeding off this experience, as lackluster as it is. If you could somehow manage to show one shred of respect, and, oh I don’t know, reverence and gratitude, this would be a lot better for me.”

“Why should I make this good for you?” you shoot back.

He turns, fucking jabs you in the chest with a stubby finger.

“Because I am literally keeping you alive.”

You scoff. He makes that weird, animalistic growling sound. Then he takes a few deep breaths, and composes himself.

“I don’t know why I even bother. I should have just gone to Dave.”

“Who’s Dave?” Wow, Dave is such a douchebag name. Sounds like a real insufferable prick. 

Karkat goes red. That was unexpected.

“He’s, uh, another one of my contracts.”

“What are his terms?”

“That’s a really personal question that I’m not going to answer, because I, unlike you, have tact.”

“Oh, so it's dirty,” you snicker.  
His ears are turning a little pink.

“It’s not fucking dirty. We have a beautiful best bro relationship that you could only wish to imitate.”

He huffs again, fidgets some more with his blanket cocoon, and resettles on a diagonal, leaning against your arm. You can’t see his face, but you can imagine it’s flushed.

“Is this a fucking problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know, is it?”

“That’s not an answer,” he huffs.

“It's fine, kk.”

“Good,” he says.

Ten minutes later, you hear him yawn. 

Ten minutes after that, his head falls onto your shoulder.

Half of you wants to stay here. This is a lame ass attempt at snuggling, but you haven’t had any real physical affection since you broke up with ff. And that was…fuck, that was like a year ago.

On the other hand, you have coding you want to do.

And, let’s remember, you’re also an asshole.

So you shrug him off. He wavers for a moment, before crashing back down into your lap. He jerks awake on impact, realizes his face is squarely pressed up against your crotch. He pulls back, and you laugh, harsh and cold.

“Jesus kk, if you wanted to suck my dick that much, you could have just asked.”

He just glares at you as you hop off the bed. He gathers up all your blankets into a pile, with himself in the middle of it, over his head, limbs, everything. It’s kind of cute.

A hand juts out, displaying a proud middle finger. It retreats when you start laughing. 

You settle down at your desk, and promptly lose four hours to coding homework.

When you’re finally ready to go to sleep, you find your bed empty, but still warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still having fun with this. Hope you all are enjoying the slow burn. Things probably wont speed up or get anymore plot driven any time soon, because this is my lazy self indulgent fic, so you're just doomed to see these two bicker at each other eternally then eventually kiss and stuff.
> 
> Also, bonus points if you catch the Bartimeaus reference. Or more like quote. Its short but its in there.


End file.
